


Where do we go

by nanasekei



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 Fills [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Slash, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve's post-snap support group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: Where do we go, now that they’re gone?is just one of Steve’s suggestions for headlines, but Natasha picks it as the main one.Steve does not fight it, because it’d be pointless, but he would have preferred a question he actually knew how to answer.





	Where do we go

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This deals a little with life post-Snap, so there are mentions of the canonical deaths and other deaths that would have occured in the universe, including a small mention of an infant death and an animal death.
> 
> Fill for Happy Steve Bingo, for the square "Therapy". Thanks so much to Ferret for the beta work!

Natasha is the one who helps him set it up.

It’s very mundane work, compared to all the rescuing and debris cleaning they had to do in the first year, after hundreds of planes fell all over the world and multiple traffic disasters plummeted entire cities into mayhem.

(They even had to calm some riots down, which Steve loathed more than anything, because those people were only dangerous because they were so terrified and so angry about something they could barely understand.)

Now, though, almost thirteen months later, the world is reaching something resembling stability again, and it’s time to help in different ways. Although Natasha still insists on staying at the compound and keeping the illusion of a team alive, they haven’t suited up in months, and at this point, Steve doubts they will ever need to again.

(Their failure caused this. The universe may forget, but they never will, and there’s no point in making people think they can protect the world if it’s not true.)

The group, then, is Steve’s idea. When he tells Natasha, he hopes she will be interested, but she only listens, quiet, and he knows even though she’s hearing every word he’s saying, none of it is actually penetrating her mind.

He’s not offended – people get distracted a lot more easily, these days.

(Steve can relate, because on some level, it's the exact same thing he experienced when he came out of the ice: out of nowhere, in the middle of a daily chore, he’d remember someone he knew – a cadet who trained with him, a girl he went to school with, a woman who lived across his street with her cat – and it’d hit him they were probably dead now. It’d be as unexpected as it was painful, and after a while it started to feel like a distant pain, like a wound that’s been stabbed too many times.

Steve knows how it feels: you get distracted because the pain takes you away with its realization, so absurd it can make you disconnect from reality for a moment. Afterwards, there’s no point in explaining it, because it’s impossible to spell it out with words, so silence works better. Grief, Steve has learned, can be sneaky like that.)

At one point, though, he has to recognize that Natasha doesn’t want to run the group with him. Still, she helps him set it all up, creating fliers and posters.

_ Where do we go, now that they’re gone _ ? is just one of Steve’s suggestions for headlines, but Natasha picks it as the main one.

Steve does not fight it, because it’d be pointless, but he would have preferred a question he actually knew how to answer.

* * *

In the first meeting, Steve’s voice shakes. Not because he’s nervous, but because he’s thinking of Sam.

(The grief, in this moment, isn’t for himself, not really. It’s for all the people who show up, lost and confused and scared, and now have to deal with Steve’s shaky welcome. He wishes, with all of his heart, that they could be looking at Sam’s gentle face now, instead.)

Still, the meeting happens, and it isn’t too terrible. Steve does most of the talking, at first, but soon a few people start stepping in. Steve has the feeling they speak mostly to spare him from having to spend the entire hour talking to a void, and he feels very grateful to them for it.

* * *

If Steve’s honest, he knows that, at first, mostly, what he helps with is providing a draw. People come because Captain America is there, because they assume he knows what he’s doing, even if it isn’t true.

But Steve has no intentions of ever selling bonds again, so he studies. He learns what to say, what not to say, in which moments it’s better to not speak at all. It’s not very hard; mostly, he finds that people just want to be heard. It’s not so much figuring out solutions as it is just… letting the pain rise and shine, raw and open, in a place where they can feel they won’t be hurt again. It’s about letting the pain resonate, hearing echoes of their own grief in other people’s words.

In many ways, Steve finds, it’s about not being alone.

* * *

Natasha doesn’t show up again, after the first couple of sessions. Steve always invites her, but she always has an excuse, so at one point, he just stops pushing.

He comes to her, instead. She’s invariably alone in the compound, which has never seemed so huge.

Steve shows up and they talk, watch a movie. At first, he helps her with a few team reports, but after a couple of weeks, there isn’t any Avenger activity to report about. Then they just talk and eat something. It’s nice – they talk about everything and nothing, sometimes remembering old stories from previous missions, their laughs echoing in the huge living room like a rebellious miracle.

When Steve leaves, he hugs her tight, and for a moment, his chest feels a little lighter.

* * *

The group thins, after a while. It gets down to twelve steady regulars, with a few people who drop by now and then and the occasional guest of the most regular members. Steve gets to know some of them – Cinthia, who got into a car crash because her cab driver disappeared while he was driving at high speed; José, a teacher who was in the middle of a lecture when he noticed a few of his students starting to turn to dust; Emma, the young mother who watched her newborn son fade in her arms.

Steve’s impressed by their courage, by their strength, by how much they listen to each other. From all the meetings, this is what sticks out to him the most: the way a woman he doesn’t know reaches out to touch José’s hand when he cries while talking about coming home and not being able to find his cat, the way Emma smiles at a teen who comes for the first time and doesn’t say anything other than introducing himself, the way they all keep coming, week after week after week.

It reminds Steve of a past life – of rough male voices singing obscene songs, uniformed bodies huddling for warmth on a cold night, right next to enemy trenches. It reminds Steve of Bucky pulling him out of the river, of Natasha’s quiet laugh, of Tony flying a missile into a wormhole.

Sometimes, at night, when Steve can’t go to sleep, because his chest is too heavy and he can’t breathe, it reminds him he can’t give up yet.

* * *

Thor refuses to accept Steve’s invitations to show up at the meeting, so Steve comes to see him. New Asgard is a little further than the Compound, so he doesn’t get to do it as much as he visits Nat, but he tries to keep it semi-regular, at least.

Talking to Thor, though, is not as easy. Steve finds that he’s often intoxicated, and, even at his most sober times, he’s not receptive to any attempts to talk about the Snap. He can even be rude, in a very un-Thor like manner, if Steve tries to press the subject.

Still, Steve visits. He plays videogames with Thor and Korg, finding out that he’s terrible at Fortnite, though he has no desire to ever improve his abilities. Sometimes it’s awkward, but other times it’s nice.

The smell of alcohol and breezy atmosphere is tempting, in a way. It’s comforting and homely in a way the outside world just can’t be anymore. He gets why Thor never leaves.

Once, after they spend a few hours playing and talking, passing around bowls of Cheetos and candy, Thor ends up falling asleep right before Steve says goodbye, snoring loudly on the couch.

Korg thanks him for coming.

“It’s nice of you, man,” he says, covering Thor with a blanket. “I think it makes him happy.”

Steve feels a knot in his throat, because he strongly doubts anything makes Thor  _ happy  _ anymore, but he nods.

As he leaves, he wishes he could do more – for Thor, for everyone. But he’s used to feeling like that by now.

* * *

He and Bruce meet for lunch sometimes, to catch up. Natasha tags along often, and Steve appreciates having someone else to get used to Bruce’s new permanent form with him.

He’s still Bruce, though – still soft-spoken, quiet, intelligent – so it doesn’t take long for Steve to adapt.

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” he says, sincerely, after the initial shock wears off.

It goes unspoken, the  _ I’m glad someone is _ between them.

“Talked to Tony lately?” Bruce asks, catching Steve by surprise.

“No,” he replies honestly. The last time he heard from Tony was when a generous check from Stark industries arrived by mail, offering more than enough to keep the support group going for a decade if Steve wanted to. At first, Steve had wanted to refuse it, but Nat convinced him to just take it.

He sent Tony an email saying thanks, but there was no response.

(Come to think of it, it’s been nearly a year since the last time he saw Tony in person. After Thanos’ death, Tony did join them a few times for missions as they tried to help the world rebuild, but that ended when Pepper got pregnant. After that, Steve only saw Tony briefly, a few weeks after Pepper gave birth, when she and Tony invited everyone over to meet Morgan Stark.

Steve had been fascinated by the baby. She was so small and noisy, with big brown eyes that looked exactly like Tony’s.

Steve watched Tony holding her, grinning with a joy that was rare to see in these days, and decided to keep his distance. He and Tony hadn’t really talked since Tony confronted him after he came back to Earth, and Steve had been surprised to be invited to meet Morgan at all, even if everyone else had. He didn’t want to make Tony uncomfortable in what was supposed to be a happy moment.

When everyone was saying their goodbyes, Pepper hugged Steve as she thanked him for coming, and Tony, busy holding Morgan, only nodded his head in his direction.

Steve clenched his jaw as he nodded back, and for a moment it seemed that Tony was going to say something, but then he looked away, and Steve thought it must have been his impression.)

Bruce doesn’t seem surprised by his answer. Instead, he nods slowly. “Oh.”

Steve opens his mouth to ask what is up with him, but then Nat changes the subject.

* * *

Steve doesn’t talk much about himself, during the meetings. When he does, he tries to keep things light, reminiscing about his time adjusting after the ice. Those griefs, Steve realizes, are old now, painful but dusty - easier to show off, to parade to strangers to help them feel a little better.

He finishes a session one day talking about Peggy. He isn’t talking about the Snap but he also is, and by now Steve knows sometimes talking like this is better, because the distance makes people feel a little safer.

He talks about the need to move on—not the desire, but the  _ need _ , the horrifying realization that this is life now, and they all still have to live it. It’s actually hard, and his voice shakes by the end, as it hasn’t for a few months now, not during a meeting.

When the session ends, as usual, a bunch of people come to talk to Steve. They shake his hand. Some of them hug him. Most of them nod solemnly and say  _ thank you, Captain  _ and Steve needs to remind them he’s not Captain of anything, anymore.

This time, José is the first to reach him, and he takes his hand in both of his and shakes firmly. Then he pats Steve’s shoulder in a way that reminds him almost painfully of Bucky.

“Thank you, Steve,” he says, and Steve, who was already ready to correct him, ends up just opening his mouth and not saying anything, standing there awkwardly.

“You’re—you’re welcome,” he says, and for a moment, it’s easier to smile back.

* * *

Steve’s listening to a newcomer talk about her difficulties sleeping without worrying about turning to dust in her dreams when he glances at the door and sees Tony.

He’s standing in the doorframe, hands in the pockets of a dark blue hoodie. His head is tilted to the side as he looks at the woman speaking, his expression almost curious as his sunglasses fall a little down his nose.

He’s not looking at Steve, so Steve forces himself to stop looking at him.

Through the following fifteen minutes, he doesn’t glance at the door, so, by the time Steve stands up, he’s almost half expecting Tony to have already left, but he hasn’t.

“Hi,” Steve says, a little uncertain, when he comes closer.

Tony’s cheek twitches a little, and he nods towards the door. Steve follows, understanding his preference for privacy, even though he suspects none of the members recognize who Tony is, with the sunglasses and the casual clothing.

They walk outside the building still in silence, stopping right in front of the entrance. It’s a beautiful day, sunny without being too hot. Steve looks over the empty street, searching for Tony’s car, but he doesn’t find anything, just his own lonely motorcycle parked nearby.

“Tiny building,” Tony says, looking up as if he’s only now seen the place. “Though I suppose something too big would make it all seem too impersonal. Gotta keep things intimate, right?”

Steve blinks. As it usually happens with Tony, he has no idea what he should say. He decides to just be direct: “It’s good to see you.”

Tony’s mouth shuts with a click, and Steve has the feeling he said something wrong.

“It’s been a while,” Tony says finally. “Thought I’d drop by and see how your little side project was doing.” His voice is dismissive, a needle poking at Steve’s chest, but he swallows, unwilling to pick up a fight after such a long time.

“More like a full-time project, now,” Steve replies. Tony is still looking at the building, and Steve is still looking at him, focused on the line of his jaw, on the carefully trimmed dark hair with more than a few glimpses of silver. A strangely familiar yearn curls inside Steve’s chest.

“Right.” Tony shifts in the same spot. A pause stretches in which Steve feels uncomfortable staring, his face heating as he looks away.

(If he’s honest, he has to admit it’s always there, when he’s talking to Tony, isn’t it? Something in the way Tony moves and talks leaves Steve feel off-kilter, and he never knows what he’s supposed to say, and yet something curls inside his chest and he  _ wants _ .)

“You haven’t been at the compound lately,” Tony breaks the silence, turning to face him. Steve wishes he weren’t wearing his sunglasses.

“Lots of work,” he responds, which is not a lie. He has been seeing Nat mostly out of the compound, and he prefers it that way, because the compound brings back too many memories of people who aren’t here anymore. Then, after a moment, he realizes what Tony’s statement implies. “Did you come by?”

Tony’s mouth twists in a grimace. “Yeah. You can only keep a baby away from her superspy aunt for so long before it gets dangerous.”

The mention of Morgan alleviates some of the tension, and Steve smiles. “How is she?”

Tony’s grin is immediate, and a little blinding, and Steve feels uncomfortable. He wants Tony to move closer, and it’s been a long time since he yearned for something that, at least in theory, was actually possible. “Oh, she’s great. Wanna see?”

Tony fishes his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket and unlocks it, opening a video of Morgan in yellow overalls, attempting to stand up.

Steve leans in to watch it, very careful to not touch Tony by accident. He smiles as he watches Morgan’s big eyes study the room around her, before she decides holding onto the table’s leg can help her in her mission.

“She looks exactly like you,” Steve says without thinking, his voice fonder than he’d like.

When he looks up, he finds Tony’s eyes, studying him with an unreadable look. Tony’s sunglasses hang from his collar.

“You’re the only one who thinks that,” Tony says, opening a slow, small smile. “Everyone thinks she’s Pepper’s clone.”

Steve looks away, back at the video. “How is Pepper doing?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“She’s fine.” Tony’s voice sounds hesitant, and Steve looks up, the instinct acquired at the meetings of seeming encouraging taking over his common sense. “I mean, at least, she was fine the last time we talked.” He pauses. “She’s, uh. Back in California.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Tony, I’m so sorry.”

Tony grimaces. “Yeah. So was I, for a while.” He inhales sharply. “But it is what it is. Some things just aren’t meant to be fixed.”

“God, Tony,” Steve says. He can’t even imagine—he didn’t even  _ know _ … “I had no idea. I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t have asked.”

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t worry. You had no way of knowing.”

Steve studies him. There’s tension in his jaw, but he doesn’t change the subject, so Steve thinks it might be okay to ask. “How long?”

Tony swallows. “Geez, I don’t know—since she left, or since we both figured out she was going to? For practical reasons, let’s go with the first, so, it must be, hm, let’s see, around ten months.”

Steve’s mouth falls open.  _ Ten months _ —nearly a year, and he had no idea. “God, Tony, it must have been…” He can’t even imagine. “Is there. Is there anything I can do?” he asks without thinking, and it must sound stupid, but he can’t help thinking of Tony in that isolated cabin, alone. Was anyone there to help him during those few months?

Tony’s grin grows, seeming almost fond. “Rhodey’s been around. He’s with Morgan right now, in fact. Bruce also comes by, and Nat…” He puts his hands on his pockets and makes a show of looking around, suddenly sheepish. “Okay, don’t get mad at anyone, but you might be the last to know. I wanted to tell you in person.”

Steve frowns. “Why?”

Tony doesn’t say anything, for a moment, then he picks up his phone, scrolling through as if he didn’t hear Steve at all.

Then he says: “Good job in there.” For a moment, Steve doesn’t get it, until Tony nods towards the building. “I arrived a little early. Thought I’d catch you in one of your inspiring speeches – don’t make a face, it’s a gift, embrace it – and no such luck, but everyone was hanging onto your every word.” He pauses, taking a breath and finally placing the phone back in his pocket. “Seems like it’s really helping them.”

Steve still wants Tony to answer his question, but he’s caught by surprise by the compliment. He inhales, taking his hands to his waist. “I hope so.”

Tony’s eyes turn towards him. “Has it been helping you?”

Steve blinks. His lips part open, but he doesn’t know what to say. It’s the first time anyone has asked him that.

“Yes,” he replies, and, immediately, he knows it’s true.

Tony smiles. “Good,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. Warmth floods Steve’s chest, foreign but far from unwelcome. “So, is there a place to eat around here? I’m starving.”

Steve looks at him – the sunrays bring out the clear silver strands on his hair, and his mouth is half-curled as if he’s waiting to see if he’ll keep smiling after hearing Steve’s answer.

And Steve wants him to keep smiling. Steve wants—many things. He had forgotten how it felt, but now, it seems easy. It feels right.

“I know a place we can go,” he says, smiling as they keep on walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are strongly appreciated, and you can also help me by [reblogging the fic on tumblr](https://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/187718740830/where-do-we-go-nanasekei-marvel-cinematic).


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